Well, I'm going to say 'yes, you strip,' now aren't I?

You stare at Traci.

"What? Jeez, you saw me naked, right? Don't make it a thing. Here." She turned, pulling a white lab coat off a coat rack you hadn't noticed before. She slipped it on, her jeans looking more like a skirt, her hair suddenly pulled back into a bun. She slipped on a pair of red colored horn-rimmed glasses and draped a stethoscope around her neck. "Now then, Mister Doe, let's proceed with the examination. Remember, I am a professional."

Despite having seen her actually dress up, it was hard not to immediately accept 'Doctor Traci Bryant.' It didn't hurt that she was stunningly hot dressed like this -- more than you'd expect. Like she was the midpoint between Tiffany and Bella, really--

Tiffany...

"John! Focus! Strip!"

You set down your teacup and slip your clothes off.

She watches you, looking you up and down as you undress. A hint of color touches her cheeks. "Okay," she murmured. "I get why I was so willing to drop the towel." She cleared her throat. "All right. Let me-- oh, hm."

You blinked again. That didn't sound like a good 'hm.'

Traci walked over to you, and traced your side. Specifically, she traced a long scar along your side. "Is that sensitive, at all?" she asked.

"Wh-- huh. Don't know where that came from. No. It's fine."

"Interesting. It's fresh. And you just turned eighteen, which is traditionally when psychotopologists..." she looked thoughtful. "John? Tell me about your eighteenth birthday."

"What?"

"Go on. Tell me." She paused. "Do I need to dress up like Sigmund Freud to get you to do that?"

The image of Traci with Freud's beard flashed through your head. You stifled the laugh. "No, please no. I've had enough Freud already. Okay. My eighteenth birthday..."

You thought about it for a long moment.

"You know, I can't remember what we did."

Traci stared at you.

"What?"

"Okay... you had a birthday... two weeks ago... and you don't remember it? And... okay, I can get forgetting what you did on your fourteenth or seventh birthday or whatever, but eighteen? That's a big deal birthday."

"Huh." You frowned. "Like Tiffany at middle school..."

"What?"

You blinked. "Sorry. There's this gi-- it's not important. There's someone I know who seems to remember me from middle school better than I remember her."

"Yeah? That happens. It's life."

"No, I remember her. I had the biggest crush on her and... she seems to remember a friendship I don't. I've trying to--"

"...this is fucked up. We should talk. I'll give you my phone number. Call it when you wake up. It's an ugly hour here but I can cope--"

"Um... I don't ever remember the Labyrinth or what I did in other peoples' dreams when I wake up."

You're getting used to Traci pausing. Honestly, she's really good at the art of the pause. "But when you're here... you do remember?"

"Yeah. Everything for the last several days, ever since I first started waking up in the hallway. John -- the other John -- he says that I did that--"

"You appear in the Labyrinth when you fall asleep? You don't 'wake up' in your own dream and then exit into it?" Traci looked shocked.

"That's... bad?"

Traci opened her mouth. She then closed it. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, John. That's bad."

"...why? Could... is there anyone who can explain all this to me, because what you're saying doesn't jibe with what the other John is telling me, and honestly I trust you more than I trust him even if he's me. My id. Whatever."

"If you get a random phone call from an international number, do you pick it up?"

"What? No!"

"Crap. Okay. Um... oh crap. No. No no no no no! Not now."

"What?" You blink, looking around. "What is it?"

"...I have to pee."

"What?"

"I have to pee! So I'm waking up! Stupid -- here!"

Traci scooted close, kneeling down in front of you. She touched her lips to your upper thigh, and you felt a tingle. And got hard, but of course you got hard.

"All right. Speed-dress you--" Your clothes were back on. "--get time going right again..." She opened the grandfather clock and pulled a different counterweight. You watched as the second hand moved back to a normal speed. "And--"

You felt a hand shaking your shoulder, the dreamstate beginning to shimmer. "Wait -- what--"

"I'll track you down!" she shouted. She was back in her t-shirt and jeans, and you noticed she had her legs pressed together and was sort of doing the 'pee dance.' "And I have to go and so do you--"

Your eyes snapped open. "Whaugh!" you half-shout.

"Whoa! Easy there," Shelley said, grinning. "We're home."

You blinked twice. Something about... a brown haired girl or a clock and a doctor's appointment... "Home? Bu-- oh God I fell asleep on you. Shelley -- I'm sorry. That's totally--"

Shelley giggled. "It's fine. You're clearly exhausted. And I gave you every reason to want to fall asleep." She winked. "I hope it inspired good dreams." She turned and opened her car door, sliding out.

You frowned. "I have... no idea," you murmured, and then followed her out of the car.